Observation of Adolescence in Teenage Wizards
by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: Venturus doesn’t want to farm things. Awful thinks he should. Erskine isn’t helping. And then things get a tad chaotic. Takes place after book "Archer's Goon."


**Title**: Observation of Adolescence in Teenage Wizards

**Author:** TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel, aka **aceofannwn** on livejournal.

**Story Summary: **Venturus doesn't want to farm things. Awful thinks he should. Erskine isn't helping. And then things get a tad chaotic.

**Setting: **Several years after the events of "Archer's Goon."

**Author note: **_Written for the "_**toughguidetofic**_" community ficathon. Response to this prompt:_

Howard is ready to graduate from school. As a powerful, former-megalomaniac wizard, what path will he take now? Awful is a fat schoolgirl at this point, and firmly believes her brother should go back to farming things; Erskine isn't helping.

_If you can guess where this fic is going, you win a point. _

* * *

**Observation of Adolescence in Teenage Wizards**

**Part One: Venturus has a dilemma**

* * *

-

Venturus waited gloomily at the school gates for his sister, standing out like a sore thumb. If it wasn't for the fact that he wanted to act as a visible deterrent for all the boys that seemed to go after Awful, he wouldn't have bothered to pick her up out of sheer embarrassment.

At eighteen, Venturus topped seven feet tall, built on the same enormous lines as Erskine, only with a head of proportions that matched the rest of him.

He could remember as a child the first time, trying to annoy his brother – rather uncomfortably; he had been such a _brat_ – by pointing out to him quite loudly that Erskine's head was far too small for the rest of him. Erskine took most things in good humour, but he'd just got into girls at that stage and Venturus' remarks upset him. For weeks after that Erskine went nowhere without a truly ridiculous oversized hat, trying to disguise the fact that his head was disproportionately small.

Venturus pushed that thought away and straightened to fill the space around him with huge, threatening presence as he spotted Awful.

At fourteen, Awful was a decidedly overweight schoolgirl with fair hair and a wicked grin, who reminded Venturus far too much of Shine. Erskine had once, years ago, said that she was a chip off the old block, and she was; as well as being almost the image of Shine at that age, in terms of personality she was like a mix of Shine and Torquil and though he didn't like to admit it, Venturus himself, with a bit of Quentin and Catriona thrown in unexpectedly.

Right now she was with a boy, skinny and with interesting hair, the way all the boys Awful's age seemed to have these days.

Awful had gone boy-mad the previous year, and although she was immensely fat she was a terrible flirt – an Awful flirt, Venturus thought ruefully – and sharp as tacks, and she'd somehow gotten a reputation for being Up For It. How a girl managed to get a reputation like that before she was quite fourteen Venturus didn't know, but he very much wished she hadn't. It was such work to scare all the little bastards off.

-

He waited until Awful and the boy were quite close, and _loomed_. Awful paid him no attention, well-used to it by now, but the boy with her suddenly noticed him and gulped, paling.

He said something to Awful, and she glanced mischievously in Venturus' direction before replying, and whatever she said made the boy look at Venturus nervously.

As Awful approached her brother, the boy made his excuses and took off.

"Honestly, Howard," she greeted him, "you'd think I could find a boyfriend with a spine. They're all scared stiff of you."

"Good," said Venturus.

He hoped that she was referring to past and present boyfriends and not merely present ones in the plural. He decided not to ask. He doubted he'd like the answer.

Awful grinned up at him with an expression that was very like Torquil's when he was deliberately up to mischief.

"It was very kind of you to turn up and give me a lift home on the first day, _dearest_ brother. Which car is it?"

"The red one," replied Venturus.

"Oh good," Awful said happily, brightening. "The dashing one."

"The four cars had originally belonged to Archer, but Venturus had transferred the ownership a few years back when the main Sykes car had broken down. After all, they were just sitting there, and Archer was never coming back, he told himself. Catriona had been given the Aston Martin, and Quentin the Rolls. Venturus had claimed the remain two cars. Quentin had argued that as head of the family he ought to have the red sports car, and that Howards was too young to appreciate it, but Venturus was adamant; besides, as he had pointed out to Quentin, he was after all really Venturus, and quite a bit older than Quentin was, when you came down to it.

Quentin had been quite confounded and didn't know what to say to that one. He tended to forget that his son was actually an extremely powerful alien wizard.

Not that anyone had explicitly told the Sykes that Venturus' family was alien. But it was there if you read between the lines.

-

Awful turned the car cassette player up very loud and pulled her hair tie out so that her loose hair was blown in Venturus' face by the wind, and sang along to '_Should I Stay Or Should I Go' _at a volume that only just fell short of matching the cassette player's.

Venturus put up with Awful's off-key version of the Clash for several blocks before he suddenly had enough and switching off the music.

"How-ward!" Awful complained. She stuck her tongue out at him and managed to fold her arms across her bosom in disgust, but smiled at a young motorcyclist when they stopped at the traffic lights.

The motorcyclist took note of the glare being directed at him by Awful's enormous older brother and carefully stared at the road ahead.

"Boys," Awful sighed. "Such cowards. Even you, Howard. I remember you being scared of Erskine. If you ever met anything bigger than you, you'd run."

Venturus bore this and similar comments with equanimity as he drove, reflecting that he'd grown up to be rather more like Erskine than he'd expected. All the others would have taken offence at Awful's remarks.

"Awful," he said finally, as they pulled into the driveway, "shut up."

Awful grinned in triumph and bounced from the car, banging her schoolbag against the paint work accidentally as she went and making Venturus wince.

Venturus just sat in the car for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet, before strengthening the anti-theft spells around the car and resignedly going inside.

He made his way to the kitchen where Awful was already devouring a giant bowl of cereal, and went through the cupboards, reappearing presently with a bowl that dwarfed even Awful's.

"Pig," Awful said amiably as he joined her at the table.

"I'm seven feet tall," Venturus told her. "You're a fat schoolgirl. Only one of us has a good reason to eat this much cereal."

Awful pouted, unhappy with defeat.

"Eating me out of house and home, as usual," Quentin observed, appearing in search of tea. "Howard at least has some excuse but you don't, Awful. Any sign of a job yet, Howard?"

"Don't call me Awful. Only Howard and Erskine and Torquil and Hathaway are allowed to do that," Awful complained, while Venturus said,

"Don't start that or I'll stuff you in the cupboard again, Dad."

As Venturus, he had a large bank account, but Quentin had strode up and down pontificating about lazy layabouts and how employment builds character, until Venturus had finally gotten tired of it and shut Quentin in the walk-in pantry cupboard, leaning lightly against the door. Awful sat there giggling uncontrollably until Catriona came in looking for Quentin and made Venturus let him out.

Now Quentin frowned at the reminder, but said, with surprising reasonableness,

"You have to find something to do with yourself, Howard, or you're going to get bored."

"I know," Venturus admitted.

"Howard can farm the world," Awful chirped from the other side of the table, "and I can farm crime, and –"

"No." Venturus said it very firmly. This was about the fourth time Awful had brought it up and he was sick of it.

"Oh come on, Howard," Awful complained, "you –"

"If you don't drop it, then I won't take you with me when I visit Hathaway tomorrow," Venturus warned her.

Awful stared at him open-mouthed for a minute, saw that he meant it, and burst into tears.

-

Quentin and Venturus ignored this, as Awful had taken to resorting to tears whenever she didn't get her own way, which was quite often. Venturus could vaguely remember Dillian doing the same thing when she was about sixteen; Shine just used to swear horribly, angrily and unblushingly.

Venturus hoped Awful never went through that as a phase, but wasn't very optimistic.

"To be honest, what I'd really love to do is design spaceships," Venturus said, "But I don't want to be too irresponsible. No one's supposed to have the kind of spaceships I can create, not even in the future, and I wouldn't want to live there anyway."

Awful sniffed loudly, and when this still garnered no response said sulkily,

"I hate you, Venturus."

Venturus and Quentin ignored that too.

"I'm going to talk to Hathaway a bit about it tomorrow; he always gives good advice. And if he can't help, I'll call Erskine home."

The next day Venturus and Awful went to see Hathaway.

For once Awful was up before Venturus was, and wearing a loose blouse and a barely-below-the-knee skirt that looked vaguely like a small tent once it was on Awful. Her fair hair was tied back from her face and she looked utterly cheerful.

Venturus sat down to an enormous plate of toast and bacon while Awful waited impatiently.

"Finally!" she huffed as he finished, and went out to the car while Venturus was still getting his coat.

Hathaway, unlike his siblings, lived several hundred years in the past. There was a small door in the local museum which acted as a portal, creating a direct bridge from the present into the past.

The museum staff showed no surprise at the sight of Venturus' seven-foot-something figure strolling along the museum corridors.

"I'm here to see Hathaway," he told the museum guard in front of the door to the past.

"Of course, sir," the guard smiled, opening the door for them. He was rather used to Venturus' visits by now.

Venturus and Awful stepped out into bright sunshine. Heads turned as Awful and Venturus walked through the gardens towards the house. This would have embarrassed Venturus once, when he was younger, but now he just went striding up to the front door and knocked without any sign he noticed the stares. He was more like Erskine every day, he decided, but wasn't sure whether this was a good thing, or a bad one.

The door was opened by a maidservant, whose eyes went big as she tipped her head back and let her gaze travel up and up until she met Venturus' vaguely amused eyes.

"One moment, sir!" she gasped, and shut the door on him.

Venturus waited patiently, Awful impatiently.

A few minutes later the door was opened by Anne, who smiled up at Venturus with easy familiarity.

"Uncle," she greeted him, eyes sparkling, amused as always that the strange, impossibly tall boy seemingly several years younger than her was in truth her uncle. This amusement had only increased over the years as Venturus grew even taller.

"Anthea," Anne added to Awful politely, staring a bit. Girls here weren't usually as skinny as in Venturus and Awful's time, but all the same Anne looked at Awful in slight awe at the fact that anyone Awful's age could be so fat.

"Hello Anne," Venturus said back. "Is your father at home?"

Anne smiled mischievously.

"To the neighbouring lord and to the agents of the Queen? Not so. To you? I'm certain he shall be found in his study. Do come in."

Venturus and Awful followed Anne through the manor house until she rapped smartly on a familiar door, and went in.

"It's Uncle Venturus to see you, Father," she called as she opened the door. "Are you at home or still out hunting?"

"Impertinent," Hathaway's voice said, amused and fond and reproving all at once. "You shall lead your Will a merry dance once the two f you are wed."

"To be sure I will, Father," Anne replied merrily. "But it's his own fault where his fancy lands; 'sides, shame to him if he knows it not."

"Wed?" Venturus asked curiously, leaning into the room and filling the doorway completely. He could vaguely remember, years ago, Hathaway telling him that Anne would once day marry a man named Sykes and move elsewhere.

Hathaway grinned at him.

"Stop looming in the doorway, brother, and come in!"

-

Venturus grinned back and did as Hathaway ordered, Awful bouncing in behind him.

She should have given an impression of heaviness, Venturus thought, but instead she reminded him of a beachball, darting about in bursts of great energy, bobbing about the rest of the time.

"Hello Hathaway," Awful chirped, settling into a chair and smiling widely at him.

"Awful," he greeted her kindly, but Venturus saw him blink at how overweight she was.

Venturus grinned to himself.

"Image of Shine, isn't she?"

"Quite so," Hathaway agreed, eyes running over Awful in a faintly wondering way. "Well, I suppose this settles the issue of Anne's descendants without need for my records."

"She's getting married?" Venturus queried.

"Indeed," Hathaway agreed. The corners of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk. "Although I find that I mind it less now that I can leave the town to visit."

Venturus frowned at his brother.

"None of you are ever going to let me forget that, are you?" he complained.

Hathaway smiled wryly.

"Well, there was some bitterness at being pinned down in one place for twenty-six years."

"So shut up and suck it up, Howard," Awful put in. She grinned at Hathaway. "He came for some advice."

Hathaway's eyebrows went up in interest, and he turned to Venturus, all rapt attention.

Venturus scowled at Awful, who poked her tongue out at him in response.

"Well, I graduated from school at the end of last term," he admitted. "But I don't want to farm anything."

"Ah," said Hathaway, as though this clarified everything, which it probably did.

He had a very shrewd, keen mind adept at dealing with people. It was no wonder he'd gone to live in the past and left the others behind, Venturus sometimes thought. Hathaway genuinely liked people in a way the others didn't quite grasp. Hathaway would carefully unravel a person's feelings and motivations where the rest of them just walked over people and took whatever they wanted.

Venturus had often thought that Hathaway was the best out of all seven of them. He was the only one for whom you could argue that his powers hadn't gone to his head. The rest of them were megalomaniacs, despite how hard Venturus, at least, tried not to be.

"Do you have any idea what you might be interested in doing?" Hathaway asked.

"Spaceships," Awful said at once. "Him and Ginger, they spend their life designing spaceships, but Howard thinks that us primitives shouldn't have that kind of super-duper technology." Her tone said clearly what she thought of this arrogance on Venturus' part.

"He has a point," Hathaway pondered, making Awful send him a look of outrage, and sit back in a sulk. "Perhaps some other kind of engineering?"

"In quantum mechanics, or whatever they're calling it?" Venturus asked. "Hathaway, you know as well as I do that anything I was good at at home is far too advanced for this civilization."

"Then why don't you go home then?" Awful retorted, seizing on the chance to needle her brother.

Instead of only Venturus looking annoyed, both men went quite still, remembering under what circumstances they'd left in the first place.

"That's not an option, Anthea," Hathaway said sternly.

His tone worked nearly as well on Awful as it was wont to on Anne. She went an unhappy red, and shut up, sensing she'd brought up some kind of sore point for the two men. Hathaway _never_ called her Anthea.

"You could always make a name for yourself as a brilliant scientist," Hathaway continued mildly, after a moment's pause. "The first in the Sykes family to win a Nobel, or some such thing." His lips twitched.

Venturus sent him an unamused look.

"I'm sorry," Hathaway spread his hands in a helpless, placating movement, "but I'm afraid that the only one who can solve your dilemma is yourself, Venturus. I can offer you all the suggestions you like and it will not solve your problem. It is a question of who you are, and what you think you are capable of doing without affecting civilization too much."

Venturus sighed in defeat. Hathaway nudged a mug a few millimeters in his direction, in a sympathetic way, and Venturus took the hint and sipped at the strong mead.

"Thank you for trying, anyway," he muttered.

Hathaway offered him a gentle smile and didn't say anything.

"Perhaps you should ask Erskine," he suggested after a while, once Venturus had ddrink a fair amount of his emad.

"I don't think so. Erskine'd be about as much help as Awful," he replied gloomily.

"Hey!" Awful protested indignantly.

Venturus accidentally spilled some of his mead, and glowered down at it, wondering how he'd managed to do that, while Awful snickered smugly.

Hathaway just offered a carefully embroidered and pressed handkerchief.

**End Part One**


End file.
